Next Time Forever
by pissedoffpoet
Summary: JackAnamaria fic set sometime after the movie. Will Jack recognize love before it is too late? R&R please


**Next Time Forever**

_A completely un-betaed WIP_

**Story by** pissedoffpoet

**Characters by** Disney

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Jack Sparrow stood at the helm of the_ Black Pearl, his hands caressing the wheel as if making love to a virgin. The _Black Pearl_ responding to every one of his movements – even the slightest twitch of his wrist. She was content to be under the command of the infamous captain, existing in that day as if no different from any other._

Her captain, however, felt mighty different. It wasn't the feeling of lingering pain across his cheekbone, nor was it the brisk chill in the Caribbean breeze.  Jack Sparrow was empty.  His lover – pardon, ex-lover – was miles away, an ocean of blue in between them.

This feeling of emptiness was quite foreign to Jack. Only once before had he experienced a similar feeling: when he had been separated from his beloved _Pearl_.  Was this really any different from that occasion?

He'd simply swapped one pearl for another.

No, this was entirely different.  Before he could have blamed that mutinous Barbossa for his suffering, but now the blame lay on no one but himself.  This was his own doing and it could have all been avoided if he had not been so arrogant.

He had lived too long under the naïve belief that everything would work out simply because he was 'Captain Jack Sparrow'.  He had now learned that that excuse was just something he had invented to explain his uncanny luck.  But his luck had run out on him, literally. He was a fool; she would have vouched for that. So many chances she had given him, so much she had put up with.  Why had he ever believed the she would be around forever? The signs were all there, she had warned him far more times than should have been necessary, but he'd waved off every one with a graceful hand gesture, never believing that she was serious or assuming she would not follow through on her threats.

He knew too well now that those threats were not empty; it was he who was empty. Well, to be technical, half-empty. Or maybe he was half-full?  What did it matter anyways, he was still only half a man.  The _Black Pearl did her part, but only one of two said pearls was still not enough to complete Captain Sparrow._

How could he feel so lethargic, so heavy, when he was only half of himself?  Perhaps he wasn't heavy; it was the hold she had on him, his heart strings tightening more so every second as the distance grew geometrically between them.

Jack's gaze stayed glued to an invisible point on the horizon, refusing to acknowledge the fact that she was gone from his life with a very unlikely chance of her ever sailing back into it.  With a deep sigh that sounded suspiciously like 'Anamaria' he made a sudden and violent turn on the wheel, shouting out to his newly promoted first mate.

Joshamee Gibbs dutifully appeared at his captain's side, ready to answer every beck and call.  Jack's look remained on the horizon for another moment or two before he gave Gibbs a blank stare, as if confused by his presence.

"Gibbs? Oh right, yes, Gibbs!"

Gibbs looked on expectantly, urging the captain to continue with his eyes.

The captain could not for the life of him recall why he had called this obedient sailor to his side, but he could not, of course, let him be aware of that.

"Well don't just stand there, take the wheel!"

Yes, he'd certainly fooled the old sailor, chalk that one up to good ol' Jack!

"Now, if ye think ye can manage I've some duties I must attend to immediately in me cabin."

With that, Jack swaggered off to his cabin; completely ignorant to the concerned stare that Gibbs had trained on him.

Jack stumbled through the cabin door and made his way straight to his desk.  He opened a few drawers, rummaged through them and came up without his treasure.  He mumbled a curse and threw some seemingly useless papers over his shoulder as he continued on in his hunt.  This drawer held more promise than the last as the glimmer of glass caught his eye amongst the mess of odds and ends.  He shoved his hand through the rubbish and pulled out a bottle victoriously.  He drew the bottle up to his lips to take a draught but was not met with the ever pleasing sensation of rum burning his throat.  He looked at the bottle and made a sound of disbelief.

Unbelievable. His rum stash...empty.  Surely he hadn't finished it off and been foolish enough not to replenish it.

"Gibbs!" Jack chorused for the second time within a brief time period.  He had intended to shout the first mate's name with incomprehensible rage and hate, but it had come off more as a frustrated and sad moan.

When the call reached Gibbs' ears he found himself almost saddened by the desperation in the man's voice.  Gibbs looked over at Cotton and gestured for him to man the helm.  Once he was acknowledged he gave a heavy sigh and prepared himself to deal with the captain's latest bout of problems which were surely no less complex than any prior ones.

If Gibbs did not already feel for the man, when he entered the cabin and took in the scene that greeted him, there was no way it could be denied now.

There was Jack Sparrow, the most notorious pirate of the Caribbean, slumped against a desk, drawers pulled open with a cornucopia of items strewn about the floor.  Jack's hand held an empty bottle atop the desk and as his grasp on said bottle loosened, it rolled off the desk, smashing into hundreds of shards as it hit the wooden planks that were the floor. Jack was a mess.

"Gibbs," he managed to growl, "what happened to me rum?"

A protective hand suddenly found its way to the flash attached to his hip.  Just because the captain had gone and drank all his rum didn't mean that Gibbs was going to give up his share.  Sure he wanted to help the captain in any way possible, but giving up his rum was simply not possible. True enough, the rations weren't small, but the amount of rum was still finite, and the rum pit was certainly not one he wished to see the bottom of.

"Well...I'm guessing you drank it all," he said pointedly yet softly.

"Don't go making these bloody suggestions that make me out to be a damn fool!"

"Jack," Gibbs tried to comfort, "what's it matter what happened to ye rum. How's about I go an' find you another bottle?"

Gibbs inched towards the door, wanting to help his distraught captain but at the same time not wanting to experience the wrath of Jack's sobriety.

"I don't want the _boys'_ rum, I want mine!" he demanded immaturely.

Gibbs sighed realizing that he'd have to handle this situation with kid gloves.

"But Captain, _your_ rum is all gone.  Maybe ye drank it, maybe ye spilt it, maybe it was used up cleanin' yer wounds. Now if ye want rum, I already tol' ye I'd go fetch ye some."

Jack's hand traveled up to his temple and felt at the small bandage that covered up the evidence of his most recent bar fight. Anamaria had been there to fix him up as usual, and most likely that's what happened to the last of his rum.  Had he known that that would be one of the last times she would touch him he'd have memorized her calloused fingertips rather than beat her off for trying to help him.  But that's the way their relationship had always been.  When it had changed was a mystery to Jack, even what it had evolved to was beyond him.

"Cap'n?"

"Yes, yes, bring me th' bloody rum," Jack said absently and crawled to his bed were he collapsed haphazardly.

"Yes 'ir, right away," he said softly and hurried out of the captain's quarters.  He marched up to the helm where he had left Cotton.

"The captain demands your flask at once!"

Cotton eyed him suspiciously and refused to hand it over.

"He said that if he didn't get it yer feathered friend's tongue would reach the same fate as yer own."

Cotton's parrot squawked at that remark and his owner quickly gave up the prize.

Gibbs strode back to Jack's cabin with the rum triumphantly.  However, he slowed just before entering. He pushed the door open a jar and looked in timidly.  When he saw that Jack remained sprawled in the same position as he had been left, only now with his eyes closed, he placed the flask on the desk and left the room quietly.  He stood outside the cabin and took a long swig from his flask.

"I wasn't gonna let him get you luv," he spoke sweetly to it and headed to relieve Cotton of his duties at the helm.

End Chapter 1.

Feedback -- negative or positive -- is greatly appreciated.


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